The day after

It is early morning, the birdsongs have barely gain momentum, and the oncoming heat still kept at bay by evaporating dew. A red fox glared at me as I disrupt its patrol of its dominion. A flash of white as a deer dashes away into the undergrowth. The world was for a moment tranquil, the fanfare of last night's festivities gradually becoming a distant memory. 

For a moment, I stood on a tiny part of America that the forefathers have behold. A land undisturbed by the inventions of mankind, unfettered by the pollution of machinery. 

This is when the true colours of America became apparent. Not red, white and blue, but the lush green of grass gently swaying in the breeze, of the multi colour pebbles being polished in the creek. It is the variance of azure highlighted by the rising sun. It is the ever changing hue of dirt peeking from underneath sashaying shadows of towering trees. The silent strength of America salient in its fertility. 

Red, white, and blue is an over simplification, even superficial. The sublime power of these The United States of America has always originated from the blend of colours that toil its soil to make it fruitful. Red, black, brown, yellow, white and all the other colours of the rainbow striving for a common goal. We must remember that, like the spectacular fireworks we admire the night before, variety and colours are what make life interesting and enriching in the US. 

God Bless America!

E Pluribus Unum

I have pondered long and hard on whether to write this. There are a lot of compelling reasons to stay silent, but to do so would come at a cost. You see, I believe we have come to a crossroad in America. We have reached the point where the soul of this nation is at stake. It isn't about Trump anymore, it is beyond that. It is about lines that have been crossed, it is about things that should not have been normalized but are, and norms that should not have been breached completely cast asunder. We have lost what is ennobling, and have fallen prey to the enablers. 

Daily we have faced the deluge of one man's psychosis, that we have forgotten to hold accountable those whose sole duty is to keep such an abuse and aberration to the constitution in check. We have become distracted while the nation's narrative is repeatedly hijacked by a few, and not even the selected or elected few, but simply a few. We have surrendered our liberties and sacrificed our morals and principles to appease a fraction of the peoples who have little regards for anyone else but themselves and holds the constitution in contempt. 

We have become numbed to hypocrisy, we condone ad hominem driven attacks. Things that should have sounded the warning bells no longer do so, events that ought to be front page news now gets buried beneath the barrage of absurdity. 

We are being held captive, too shocked to react, and too naive to truly comprehend the damage that is being wrought without our consent. America, search your souls, I beg of you. Do you truly buy into the victimhood narrative? That the great nation that you are is being ripped off? 

Perhaps it is powerful to know you that can with-hold love, perhaps it is self-serving that you can dispense charity as you see fit. Yet, if you close your doors to those who are in dire need, separate the children from their parents, appoint those who do not believe in science or facts, or possess common sense or decency to positions of power; then what you have truly done is to become the very monster you sought in others. 

Even as I write this, there are policies that have set into motion consequences that will harm generations to come, and bring the downfall, perhaps not to your person, but to your children, and your children's children. The many deregulations, the appointment of sycophants, it all leads to one thing - entropy. When the rule of the day serves only one purpose - each person for themselves, then you cannot stand united, it is just impossible. 

Here is the thing, when you no longer can empathize, when you lose civility in your discourse when you don't trust your neighbour, and no longer offer a helping hand when possible, then you a miser and a bully. And that quite frankly is not the America I have come to cherish. That is not the America of immigrants, of individuals yearning to breath free, and would swear to protect the rights of others to do likewise. 

We may disagree, but we must not forget we work towards a common goal, to keep these states United - e pluribus unum. Be mindful of those who seek to divide and conquer, who targets and label and blame. Be mindful that we do not buy into that narrative. 

We must call out whenever decorum is breached. When those whom we entrust the sacred duty of checks and balances failed to do so, we must call them out and hold them accountable. It is not about Trump and his cabinet anymore. It is not about Republican or Democrat. It is about what is American. Turn back while you still can.

Depression

Here is the dirty secret about depression and suicides, it is not that the person don’t reach out, it is they can’t. One of the cruelest thing about depression is for one reason or the other, the ability to reach out is ruled out as a viable option to the person going through it. These reasons can range from “I am not worthy to bother another”, “I don’t want others to see me like this”, “no one really cares”, “ I just don’t feel like being around people.” So to those who said, “if only he/she reached out”, “if only they know we are there”, unfortunately, that is not how it works. 

It sucks, it is a cruel joke, and few are immune to it. So, be kind to one another. Perform small acts of kindness whenever you can; leave a note/text, show a smile, compliment. Be goofy, be genuine, don’t judge, and most importantly, don’t be afraid. 

There are dark corners in the labyrinth of our minds, and we may not be ready to dive in. But that is not our duty, ours is to raise a light as high we can so that some flickering light can penetrate into those shadows. Ours is to bellow our kindest regards so that a whisper of hope may reach the ears of the wayfarer in the deeps.

biases

I am often surprised by my own biases. I have strived to be fair-minded, to be inquisitive, ever mindful that I may not have all the facts that go into someone else's decisions. Yet, as of late, I find myself reacting more readily as opposed to taking a step back. It is a frightening place to be when I realize just how treacherous and judgemental my thoughts can be. 

Here I am formulating an opinion based upon a fraction captured in a singular moment in time, and it clouds my ability to perceive the whole. It is particularly poisonous, that false sense of insight. 

Understanding is an art, it takes patience, and a constant reminder to oneself "what do they know that I know not?" It involves being open and receptive to the idea there is more than meets the eyes. 

There is so much to understand, that needs to be understood, and it creates a huge margin for misunderstanding. Yet, if we take a moment to reflect on our biases, to say "wow, my frame of reference was invalid, or does not acknowledge your reality", think of the relationships we could have salvaged, the friendships we could have, the possibilities of expanding our experiences beyond what we know.

Grief

Grief visits us all at some point in our lives. There is the profound grief that follows the loss of a loved one. And then there is the grief of a lesser degree that arises from myriad reasons; the experience of which is no less confusing or impactful. We grief for different reasons, and in our own ways. Sometimes it is hard to own up to that or recognize it in others. 

There are good days, a lot actually, so much so that one is lured into a false sense of security, and then out of the blue, grief hits you in the guts, and it can be as raw as the first time. The trigger could be anything and nothing; regardless, the result is the same and you are left there to experience it again. 

Ironically, grief can be oddly comforting. You ride enough roller coasters you get to know how each one vibrates and can, therefore, anticipate some of the twist and turns. The thrill of a drop never goes away, but at the same time, it is something you can count on. So, as much as we dread grief's visit, it is familiar. 

So, we grief, either silently or aloud. Some expect us to collapse and succumb to it. More often, one puts on a brave smile and carry on. It is often not something one takes medication for, it is not a diagnosis, it is not something one is ready to share despite how common it is. That is perhaps the unique quality of grief, to isolate us even when it is so common. We turn our faces from the crowd, or the crowd shy away to give us room. One way or the other, we visit with grief, and it greets us like an old friend who knows us at our worst.

The Diner

There is something soothingly familiar about diners.  On the surface, it is a place bustling with activity, bordering chaos. Yet, should you sit long enough you will find the rhythm that makes these kind of establishments run so smoothly.

There is the wait staff that makes the regular circuit, carafe in both hands ready to replenish the thirsty souls, ever attentive. There is the expert cook at the grill, steadily decimating cartons of 32 eggs, plating omelettes, bacon, home fries, and wholesome goodness. There is the other cook, deftly applying butter to toast regardless of colour- white, wheat, or rye. There is the cleaning staff who constantly make clean utensils, plates, and mugs appear like magic. There is always an older wait staff, whose experienced eyes rove over the room, ensuring order, sending "underlings" to the unattended, making sure a nod or smile is delivered for those who need it.

It is a beautiful thing to witness how it all comes together. There is nothing more iconic Americana than sitting at the counter of a diner, with a thick rim thick body mug in hand filled to the brim with steaming goodness, breathing in the aroma off the grill, witnessing hard work and good service come together.

Get over the wall

What is the point of evolution if we don't use our faculties to overcome the primal instincts of fright, fight, or flight? We have been given these great gifts as humans for intelligence, compassion, and empathy. We ought to use them more often, to communicate to one another , to share.  Look, there will always be those in power who seek to strike fears in our hearts, to divide and conquer. They will talk of building walls, they will have us thing we are different. And in a way, it is easy for misunderstanding to occur only because there is so much to be understood to began with. So I say reach out, talk, build bridges.

You know why in a game of rocks, paper, and scissors the paper beat the rock? It is because an open palm embraces a closed fist, it teach us to be open and embrace hostility. Yes, it leaves us open to those who wishes to cut us down, to divide us. Yet, if we do what is right, then maybe, just maybe the might of those who can and are just will strike those who wishes to cut us down.

Incidentally, the act of enclosing a closed fist with a palm forms the character "illumination" in Chinese. Think about that. (Yes, I know the Chinese character is actually a combination of the sun and moon, but act to form it with ones hands is symbolic too)